Best Kept Secret
by chatte blanche
Summary: Royai, Drabble-ish, One-shot. "She is his best kept secret, just like he is hers."


**Disclaimer:** I forgot this on "Cat and Mouse". ROFL. But, yeah, I don't own FMA. If I did, it wouldn't be for children as far as the Royai scenes were concerned. ;)

**Best Kept Secret**

There is a rumor flying around Central, a rumor about the dashing colonel and his lovely first lieutenant. It is one that is spoken in hushed tones and whispers, for the colonel – as stealthy as a cat and as sly as a fox – has a habit of showing up unannounced at the local watering hole, looking for a drink and looking to engage in idle chat and gossip as a means of procrastination.

None of the men believe it. Since the rumor started, the colonel has continued romancing women, no doubt adding to the countless notches on his bedpost. The flow of angry, tearful women into his office has not been stymied. He continues to send roses to various unnamed women; the men have heard the colonel on the phone, ordering one bouquet after another. And all the while, his lieutenant has done nothing about his amorous behavior, except to roll her eyes as usual when she is called to escort the sobbing women out the door and into the streets after they're done yelling at him.

Nor do the women believe it. How could the colonel, he of the dazzlingly bright smile and svelte manners designed to charm panties off of their owners, possibly be in love? He and the word love do not belong in the same sentence together. He is a skirt-chasing fanatic, a manwhore, a womanizer. The colonel is anything but committed and monogamous, with eyes for only one lucky lady.

And _**her**_. Why her? She is what men would call pretty – certainly not gorgeous. He's gone out with better-looking women, model types with pouty lips and smoky eyes (and failed to call them the next day). The ladies of Central titter when they discuss her in regards to the rumor. In their eyes, she is polite but reserved, competent but dispassionate. She is not the type of woman he would fall in love with; they think of her as boring, prudish, and even unfeminine. "Can you imagine the bed talk they'd have? 'Shut the light off, I have work tomorrow. You can sleep on the couch; I don't enjoy being cuddled and hugged as I sleep,'" they say, a smirk rising on the corners of their lips. "She probably would just lie there and do nothing! Like –that- would keep his attention for long," one quickly adds, before dissolving into raucous giggles.

Yet, for both the men and women of Central, for all of their convictions and truths regarding the colonel and his lieutenant, a thin line of doubt exists. Perhaps it is true.

It would explain the glances exchanged between the two. To the observers, they are just looks – but disconcerting looks, nevertheless. They are looks that seem to suggest something more than just a regular, platonic relationship between commanding officer and subordinate; looks that suggest fraternization.

It would explain the one incident that rests in everyone's mind, when an unsuspecting corporal stumbled into the colonel's office with paperwork, paperwork for him to sign. To his surprise, the lieutenant was hovering over the colonel; her hands, with the fingers lazily arched, were placed lightly on his messy desk, an unreadable expression on her face. And there the two stayed, frozen for a few moments, before she turned and grabbed the documents from the corporal before ushering the hopelessly flustered visitor out of the office.

The corporal noted, whilst retelling the story over a few drinks, that the lieutenant's normally pressed coat seemed to be mussed up, as if the collar had been caught in some sort of unfortunate struggle, and that he could "cut the tension in the room with a knife".

And so the rumor persists, meandering its way down the corridors and halls, past cubicles and offices, until, one day, the colonel's second lieutenant casually brings it up.

"I told them it wasn't true," the second lieutenant says, cigarette dangling from a corner of his mouth. He chuckles, closing his eyes as he shakes his head. "You and her? Please! She's the one woman that puts up with you and keeps you in line, instead of worshipping you."

And the colonel merely breaks into a smile before catching the eye of his first lieutenant, exchanging a silent word with her.

She is his best kept secret, just like he is hers.

**Fin.**

**AN:** This was quite enjoyable to write. I like the beginning, but the ending is a bit… awkward, to say the least. Still, it's a piece of solid work in my opinion, and one that, for once, isn't Riza or Roy-centric (which is quite a feat for me)! :)

It also contains no lime – the most explicit it gets here is the suggested kiss between the two. I imagined Roy grabbing her collar and kissing her unexpectedly – and her being surprised, yet pleased, by the kiss. x3;

I wish there were some way to flesh out the back story as well. I meant to write something about why Roy's keeping up his dating activities – that he's being dropping these women like hot potatoes since he and Riza got together, that's why they're so angry (not that he slept with them and failed to call back), and that he's been sending flowers to Riza – but that didn't happen. :( Bleh.

Well, thank you for reading this, and I hope you enjoyed it. :)

As always, reviews are appreciated.

-- Chatte


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